


Auxiliary Works

by BulletNick



Category: Crypt of the NecroDancer
Genre: AUs, Canon, Drabbles, One-Shot, Random - Freeform, assortment, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletNick/pseuds/BulletNick
Summary: An assortment of fan-written works inspired by Crypt of the NecroDancer. Any work of a certain length and effort that doesn't merit its own fanfiction entry will be added as a new chapter here. These works have no relation to each other; it's merely a collection of the random ideas what I came up with and felt compelled to write. Updates sporadically, as in, whenever I get around to making something new. Expect anything from plausibly canon entries, to AUs, and anything in between.





	1. During the Wait

Cadence tossed and turned in her bed, eyelids troubled and hair disheveled. She’d been trying to sleep for hours, but it just would not happen. Tired of futilely closing her eyes, she sat up on her bed, rubbing her eyes. Sleep had been hard to come by in the past few months… she was always tired, but never quite relaxed enough to get the rest. She opened her bedroom window, and though it was small, it let the light pour in to illuminate her room. She felt a light breeze brush her cheeks, but the night felt warm.

She looked longing at the moon. How long had Dad been gone? She wasn’t entirely sure. Three months? Three-and-a-half? ...four? Eli had told her to stop keeping track, that it didn’t matter. He was coming back soon enough, and counting did no good, it just distracted her.

She wasn’t sure if she believed him, or even if he believed it himself. She told herself the same thing, too… but the sun kept rising and falling, and dad never came through the front door. Just Eli, tired and alone like always, whom she had to help around the house every day.

“Work is good. Keeps you busy, focused on what’s important. If you go foolish around too much, you lose track of things…” Eli had told her a few times since Dorian left. “...or people, even…” he added under his breath, perhaps hoping she didn’t hear it.

“Where did you go, dad…?” Cadence asked the moon, staring at the thousands of stars in defeat. She sighed as she lets her arms hang out of her window. The entire village seemed to be frozen in time, dark as the forest, and so silent. Time kept passing, and yet nothing happened.

Cadence was about to attempt lying in bed again, when she noticed, far in the distance, something moving through the village. She squinted her eyes, leaning over the windowsill, trying to make out what it was. With tired eyes, she could identify… a caravan? A cart? Two, three people? What were they doing here? Cadence followed it with her eyes, seeing it rest nearby the village inn, before the door was opened, a small outpour of yellowish light, before vanishing into darkness again.

Well, that was odd. People almost never moved about at this time of night. The only people who would were…

Cadence remained idle on the spot for several minutes, as an idea formed inside her head. She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t do this… right?

She tapped the windowsill, looking back and forth between the village and her small closet. She bit her lips and tapped her foot. This was a terrible idea. This was a bad idea. This was a misguided idea… but…

“Well, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon…” She admitted, and after thinking it over one last time, she opened her closet, taking out some of her least-used clothes, and promptly changing herself. She softly opened her door, opposite the room Eli was sleeping in. With the lightest footsteps she could manage, she peeked through Eli’s door.

He was sleeping in mom and dad’s old bedroom. Even if he was a big guy, the bed looked too big for just one person. Dad had protested to no end when they were forced to sell Eli’s bed and he had to sleep on Melody’s side.

“She was my sister, Dorian. I miss her, too, but we have to do this.”

“You’re my brother-in-law, Eli, and my family, but I cannot allow this. This is Melody’s place, this is where she belongs, this-”

“This was Melody’s place. But she’s gone now, Dorian. You gotta accept that. And I need a place to sleep, and money’s real tight these days. There’s no choice.”

“But you don’t understand. Melody, she… she can still… Eli, I can bring back-”

“That’s enough! I’m sleeping here and you better get used to it. And if you really want this bed to only have one guy in it, you’re welcome to try sleeping on the chair.”

Even now, Eli still slept on his side of the bed, not trespassing on the side Dorian had taken for almost two decades. Still, the image still struck her as quite tragic.

She was shaken out of her musings by Eli’s loud snoring. Ah, yes, good, he was still fast asleep. She could continue. With cat-like treading, she approached the front door, and took the large cloak that laid near it. She took a minute to carefully drape it over herself, and folding it so it covered her completely, and most important, cast a shadow over her face.

She wouldn’t want Eli hearing about this.

“Sorry, Uncle Eli… but I want answers.”

She cautiously opened the front door, left the house, and closed it behind yes, and under the safety of the cloak, walked away from home.

~~~

Two men were inside an inn, talking to the barkeep, inquiring about the price for a few nights’ stay. They were travelling adventurers, only passing by for a few days, before embarking upon a quest, not too far from here. The barkeep was looking rather tired after a hard day’s work; people loved to soothe the cold days with some ale to warm the belly. Nonetheless, they secured the stay, paid him, and asked if he wouldn’t mind taking some things from their caravan and then leaving it elsewhere where it wouldn’t disturb anyone in the morning.

The two men left the inn’s warm light, into the chilly moonlight, as they retrieved some of their belonging from this cart.

“Lucky for us there’s this place, huh?”

“Lucky? You’re a fool. Nothing about this place is lucky.”

“Whaddaya mean? This looks like a lovely place.”

“You idiot. It’s cursed, just like the graveyard.”

“I mean, yeah, who builds a town so close to such a foul place?”

“I hear there used to be some crazy necromancer here that terrorised the village.”

“That’s just silly. You know necromancy is impossible.”

“Yeah? What about all those stories we heard coming this way? All the explorers and adventurers that get lost, the strange sounds at night near the graveyard, skeletons moving and walking?”

“It’s almost as if you didn’t want to go looking for it.”

“I do. But I’m just saying, be careful. The last poor sod who looked for it vanished three months ago and hasn’t been seen since. Some deluded man seeking for a way to retrieve some long-lost lover. Couldn’t be talked out of it. Left his daughter and home one day just like that.”

“I’m sure they’re just meant to scare us.”

“Yeah, well, these are the kinds of characters we’re going to be compared against if we don’t come back. That’s why we brought the guns. That’ll give us an edge none of the others had.”

Just as they had finished taking everything they wanted, tying and untying all the bags, and sorting everything, a figure suddenly emerged from the shadows just behind them. Feeling on edge, one of the two pulled out a dagger and took a defensive stance, blade ready, whilst the other started rummaging from the caravan, looking for a weapon.

The figure raised its hands slowly, indicating no weapon, and stood still, to indicate no harm. “Please, stay calm. I’m here just to ask some questions. I want nothing else from you.” The figure said, in a slightly strange pitch, that felt almost a bit forced. The man with the dagger lowered his arm but kept a grip on it, whilst the other was looking between the two, trying to read the situation. “What do you want?” The first man asked, his other reaching for one of his pockets, just in case he’d need an edge over this figure.

The figure, which had its face shrouded in the shadow of the hood, only the mouth and nose poking into the moonlight, carefully took one step closer. “You mentioned a man. Left three months ago, abandoning home and family.” There was a brief pause, as their lips seemed to hesitate over the words. They cleared their throat and continued. “What else do you know about him? Where have you heard this?”

“What’s it to you?” The man spat back, the weariness from the travel and the worries of his quest ahead wearing his patience thin, and his temper up. His partner was still unsure of what to do, now looking around, seeing if anyone else was around, perhaps fearing an impending ambush cleverly set up. They didn’t hear much of criminals around these parts, but conflict was not unheard of here.

The figure hesitated for a second, the cloak flapping quietly in the breeze, face still hidden in the darkness. “I’m looking for him. I’ve… travelled far for him. He holds some important answers that I seek.” It said, not-too-subtle indicating that there was obviously way more to it than that. Sensing the tension, the figure continued. “Please, don’t worry, there’s no other motive for this. I just want a truth he’s hidden from me.”

The man carefully examined the figure up and down, eyeing them meticulously. “You’re family of his, aren’t you?” The figure said nothing but the lips and cheeks tightened, and their nostrils flared slightly. The man gave out a smirk. “There we go. Figures it’d be something like that. Only someone with personal reasons would snoop in like this.” 

The man loosed his posture and lowered the dagger still in his hand. “Sorry, but there’s not much else I can tell ya. This story, I don’t know where it comes from. It just spread around to nearby towns. Rumors and such. They said the man was convinced he’d found some magical treasure. Didn’t say much else than that.”

The figure remained silent and quiet, seemingly thinking over his answer. “And where could I find more information?”

The man turned back to his partner and gestured him to relax, and continue as they would have. “Can’t give you much of a good answer, ‘cept inns, taverns, and dark places where tongues are loose. Don’t expect a lot of help, there’s not much around. People get lost often these days, sometimes not a trace is left.” He finishes the preparations for his caravan that had been interrupted.

“Hope you find what you’re looking for.” The man added, staring at the figure, who remained still, not saying anything, head slightly bowed, probably in thought. Without another word, the two men kept going their way, slowly vanishing in the darkness, as the figure turned around and kept walking in the opposite direction. When the inn was securely out of view, the hood was pulled back, as dark golden locks spilled out from underneath the cloak.

Cadence sighed as she leaned against one of the alleyway walls. She sighed in defeat as she looked up to the night sky, feeling just as lost and clueless as the day dad left. Cadence had been eavesdropping on the inn even before this, trying to piece together any information she could, but there was never anything concrete, anything specific. Often, it was contradictory, and just flat out lies. Her father would never do some of the things they spoke of.

Never. Ever. Not a doubt. No chance he’d do that. For any reason.

Cadence slowly dragged herself against the wall until she was sitting on the cold cobblestone ground, the cloak shielding her from the growing wind that was howling through the streets at whatever ghastly hour it was now. As she pulled the cloak tighter around herself, she took a moment to examine the cloak. It was just a plain woolen cloak, but it had interesting abstracts patterns on it. Cadence had no idea if they meant anything… but she did know that it was Dorian’s cloak. From his old adventuring days, sometimes he’d be in cold weather, high places, or just fierce nights, this was his old cloak. Trusty, cozy, protecting, comforting.

Her home was a lonely place these days. Eli was absent most of the time, having to work at the mines, and earn enough to keep them afloat… Cadence missed her dad, and a lot. She just wanted him to be back. He was supposed to be back already, he had told her as much, and back with treasure and joy and hope. But yet… the days went by, and not a word of news. Nothing. Just… waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Trying to hold back the water rising up to her eyes, she looked up to the moon one last time, hoping the bright light would give her hope.

“...where are you, dad?”


	2. 350 Deaths Per Minute

Bolt rushed down the stairs as they abandoned the sight and smell of pungent mushrooms and tar monsters. With a speedy and intense heartbeat ringing in their skull, they kept descending the spiral staircase onto the next floor. Whatever or whoever was controlling this, they were powerful, and devious. Somehow, they had learned of their unique trait; somehow, they managed to make every monster, every flicker of the torches, every step of their in tune to their freakishly fast heart. But they could handle it. They had a lifetime to train their muscles to attune to their condition. They could make do, but even still, this last floor had them in a panic, struggling to keep up with the mere beating drum of their heart.

...how much longer would they keep descending? Was this yet another tall room, housing some great creature?

Eventually, they finally set foot on the next floor, titanium spear in their hands, and bright torch sticking behind to light the way. They could hear the music, anytime now, and they would be ready.

But as soon as they stood in the anteroom, between the central pillars, they suddenly collapsed to the floor. They fell to their knees, clutching their chest, then rolled over in excruciating agony.

_Their heart felt as if it was about to explode._

Bolt clutched their chest, the unbelievable pain overbearing any thought. They couldn’t think about anything, they couldn’t do anything, except just feel in the most vividly visceral way everything about their own body. They could feel their heart within, forced to beat faster than it had ever beat, even for them. Chambers forcefully opening and closing, blood shoved through arteries and veins as best as it could, the magical flow having no regard for viscosity or natural function.

They could feel the arteries in their legs pumping blood where it wasn’t needed. They could hear a ceaseless drumming in their head. Every soft, fleshy corner, they could feel them pulsating uncontrollably. Their breaths were short, shallow, barely able to provide enough oxygen to keep up with the torturous rhythm. Even their eyes felt like they were feeling the building pressure, as eyeballs tried to move erratically.

Bolt laid on the ground, paralysed by a rhythm so fast even they felt they couldn’t keep up with. It took enormous effort to push the pain aside, and with pulsating thighs, muster the strength to even stand up, and lean against one of the pillars for support. They never had felt such intense and detailed awareness of everything that was happening to their body; their heart, their muscles, their blood, their lungs, everything, manipulated to operate at a speed that no one should be able to withstand.

They hissed and grunted between the brief breaths they could manage, defying the pain as much as their body defied their own biology, frowning through the countless pangs in their chest.

_Focus._

That was the only thing that mattered. All the training, all the work… they could endure this. Just like they had endured everything before. It didn’t matter what was happening. Focus, and survival was attainable. Not on every vein and artery that is carrying pain through every limb, not on the excruciation pulsations-

_Focus._

Focus on the rhythm, on the music blaring on the other side of the door. Focus on surviving, on passing yet through another test. They could endure this. With great effort, they stood on their own two feet, head held high despite the blood rushing at unnatural rate. They faced the door, cursing whatever was causing such ruckus, preparing themselves for whatever awaited them.

“Onetwothreefour onetwothreefour onetwothreefour onetwothreefour-”

As soon as they felt they had the rhythm down, they rushed to a mad sprint towards the door, not even kicking it open, just bursting through with momentum. It was then that they finally knew how hard they would be tested.

**“Ah, welcome!”**


	3. Last Record

**In some far-flung alternate universe…**

_A cassette is being delicately observed. The plastic case is full of scratches, and the labels and lettering have been rubbed away, indicating a lot of age and use. The magnetic tape is worryingly loose and dirty, but still functionally attached to it._

_The cassette is inserted into the player. The rewind button is pressed, as the machine whirs quietly, setting back to the beginning. A few minutes past, until the button depresses sharply. The finger hovers with hesitation over the play button, before gently setting the tape in motion._

_There is nothing but noisy static for a few seconds, as fingers are tapped anxiously, waiting for coherent sound. Before long, a voice can be made out amongst the static. It babbles incoherently until the noise starts clearing._

“...audio recording for the 23rd of April, 1964. This is a solo expedition. Despite my attempts to convince the others that the relic was located beneath the old church, I’ve been designed as nothing but a reckless fool. I don’t care. My notes point to this location, I’m sure of it. And based on what little information there is on this church, it should only be a brief affair. There are no records of anything but a simple crypt beneath it. The texts mention that alongside the relic one would find…”

_The tape is once again overcome by static, any recorded words lost to magnetic decay. Several minutes pass before any coherent sound is heard again._

“...seems that many people were buried here. It’s rather more expansive than I thought. It shouldn’t be too surprising, many manuscripts were damaged when the village collapsed. It’s likely that the old monks weren’t too concerned with writing or publishing details about this place.”

“It looks a bit unusual. Large chambers connected by small, narrow corridors. I suspect these rooms were once filled with corpses and skeletons, judging by the skulls and bones left behind, but they’re oddly vacant. It’s as if someone removed most of them. I don’t see how, this crypt hasn’t been disturbed in centuries… damn it, it’s too dark in here… and this equipment keeps getting stuck on the jagged walls… it’s a nasty fall if the floor caves in, I’m not sure if I can take the landing… wait… some of these corpses still have equipment on them. That’s… bizarre… this one has…”

_Static. The fast forward button is held for a second, the pitch of the static rising, until the finger lets go. A few more seconds of nonsense, until…_

“...the crypt is much deeper than anticipated. Beneath the system of rooms there appears to be an underground layer filled with fungi and vegetation, living in a cave-like system. There’s even some bioluminescent flora in here, though it’s far dimmer than my torch. There’s a really pungent smell in the air. It’s quite horrid, to be honest.”

“At this point, I have to admit I’m no longer sure about the relic’s location… but I have to admit… this underground network is very curious indeed. I’ll keep probing further, to see how far down it goes. My limited understanding of biology and geography tells me that this cave is at very least highly unlikely, and yet… it all seems natural as far as I can tell. Not man-made. Besides the corpses strewn about here and there, there’s no indication of…”

_More static. This time, no fast-forward, just patient waiting until the tape outputs something besides just white noise, with the occasional voice that’s audible but turn unrecognisable by distortions._

“...no longer know what to make of this. The underground fungi caves were already testing my disbelief, but this is beyond any of my scientific knowledge. How can such hot and cold environments co-exist in such close proximity and still maintain their respective temperatures? How can ice spikes comfortably remain solid so close to burning hot coals? What is keeping these coals hot in the first place? Or maintaining this section so securely cooled to the point where there’s thin layers of ice covering patches of ground?”

“I am completely at a loss here. It might an even greater mystery than the fact that I can still see more and more floors underneath the current ones, through pits in the current floor. Damn it… neither section is comfortable to remain in… the coals are hot enough to burn, but the ice makes it so difficult to navigate… just what is this place?”

“I should probably return to the surface soon. I’m starting to feel unnerved. And yet… my curiosity compels me to keep going. Why are there no records of any of this? Was it being hidden? Or simply never explored? But if that’s the case, why am I encountering…”

_The tape gives out again, before the player gives a soft click, indicating the end of the track. The cassette is ejected, then flipped, and inserted again, to start the playback of the other side. Play. A minute of the same static plays, before the voice begins again._

“...a system of enclosed rooms, some of them decorated with statues, and tiled floors. The ambience is unsettlingly ornate for being buried so deep underground. I suspect that there’s been a cave-in at some point, seeing as how there’s no doors or connecting passageways, so I’ve been forced to use my shovel to carve my way through these rooms.”

“There seem to be some variation to the statues, with a variety of features and alternate versions. This might be exhaustion and instinct speaking, but I cannot shake the feeling that there’s… something else in here. This presence.”

“I’m just being paranoid. It’s been dead silent this entire journey. Nothing but the echoes of my own clumsy exploration. How much deeper does this go? I’m starting to regret this… I’m not sure what I was thinking. Beyond personal curiosity, only the now vague promise of seeing the relic drives me forward. Despite not expecting so many floors along the way, I am certain that it’s here, somewhere. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later… I’m starting to get this very uncomfortable feeling of…”

_The tape is pretty much unreadable for several more minutes. As the static is quietly listened, there’s the tenuous yet unshakable sensation that the static is somehow changing as the tape continues. Becoming deeper, yet somehow… strangely melodic._

“...utterly bizarre. There seems to be some sort of metal running down the corridor, even going under the doors, and reaching into adjacent connected rooms, before reaching some rounded dead end. I wonder what purpose these served centuries ago… were they purely aesthetic? Showing the layout in some decorative fashion? Or did they have a more practical purpose? I cannot fathom. The deeper I delve, the less certain I am about this place.”

“I am starting to run out of supplies and markers. If this doesn’t stop reaching downwards, I might turn around and start my ascent soon enough. Perhaps I’ll come back with a crew, with proper spelunking equipment. Maybe set up some kind of small base down here, to explore the properties of this… this… crypt? Underground caves? Hidden network? I’m not sure anymore.”

“I don’t feel safe in here. I keep getting chills down my spine, even though the temperature has long since been comfortable. I feel something telling me to leave, and turn around. But I have to keep reminding myself. It’s just paranoia. Just a feeling. Shake it off, and finish the expedition. Don’t make a repeat of what happened back in…”

_This time the static comes in sharply, almost painfully, like the tape has been almost physically traumatised. Nonetheless, it eventually subsides. But by this point, it’s become more of a soft hum that overpowers anything else that might have been recorded. It almost sounds like it’s the end of anything useful, until…_

“...wait… is that? It can’t be… there’s something glinting in the distance. Out there over by the platform… no, it’s impossible… there’s… some kind of gold-plated object, clutched by a skeleton covered in thick robes. This might be the relic I’ve been looking for. But why here? What’s going on? I’m not sure if this is really it. It doesn’t quite match the description. It appears to be… some kind of instrument…”

_The previously quiet background hum has now grown in intensity. The voice has been completely overpowered. The static returns, and yet, through the noise, faintly, yet clearly, mysterious music can be heard. It doesn’t match any sound heard before, but the melody is haunting, almost beautiful._

_The tape keeps playing for many more minutes, not a word to be heard… only static, and the music, eerily clear through the entire remaining length of it. It finally fades out, as the player gives a final click, indicating the end of this side of the tape._

_There is a moment of silence as Cadence stares at the player, unsure of what to do with it. He looks nervously at the cassette housed inside, mind racing with possibilities. Before long, she finally finds her voice again._

“...what happened? ...what did you find down there, grandma?”


	4. Anniversary

Dorian shifted his feet, his gaze averted downwards. He really didn’t know what to say to her… he’d been thinking about this day for weeks now, and he had all sorts of idea to what to tell Melody, but now that the moment came, under the warm sun and soft breeze, he couldn’t find anything.

He tightly held the bouquet of roses in his hands. There was no use hiding them… not that he wanted to. He even dressed up a bit, wearing slightly more formal attire. It wasn’t quite as comfortable, but he felt the occasion deserved it.

He took a deep breath, as he kept replaying memories of the last year in his head. So many emotions… even since one year ago, his life had changed so much, and it was all because of her. Melody, the love of his life…

Melody, who had given him infinite reasons to smile, whose songs and singing had inspired so much in him, the beautiful woman that he thought he’d never meet and get to dance with, that he wanted nothing more than to explore and see the whole world with, finding incredible things, and he wanted to tell her so much, to say everything, to just pour his entire heart out of her, everything he’d been feeling for a whole year...

“Melody, I…” He could barely hold down the lump on his throat. He tried to start again, but he gave up. How could he speak the truth in his heart. It was too strong, too powerful, too raw for words to express. How could he say everything that he’d gone through. “I… I keep thinking about you, all the time... I never stop wanting to see you, to hear you, to hold you in my arms…”

“Melody, I… I miss you so much…” Dorian said, tears rolling down his face, as he laid the bouquet of roses to rest upon Melody’s tombstone. The petals fluttered softly in the wind, as his strength faltered, and began to sob as he fell to his knees in front of the engraved stone, marking Melody’s birth and death, the latter exactly one year ago.

Cadence was standing just a few steps behind him, Eli towering behind her, holding her shoulder steady as they held their heads down in mourning. The brim of Eli’s hat covered the glassy-looking eyes beneath, trying to hold back the tears. He had to be the strongest here, for Dorian and Cadence.

Cadence, now a growing girl of eight, was watching the scene unfold silently, but the tears came down all the same, leaving clear trails on her face. She missed her mom so much… she missed her warmth, her care, her voice… she didn’t fully understand the circumstances around her death all that well, even a year later. She had begun to cope with it, but coming here, to the graveyard, seeing the tombstone, and her father losing all his strength… the scene was too much to bear without crying.

She hugged Eli’s wide arms close to her, turning around to wipe her tears against his shirt by nuzzling him. She heard Dorian’s constant sobbing, then turned her head to face her uncle, and asked with big eyes:

“Uncle Eli… will we be okay?”

“Of course we will, kiddo. We always find a way.”

“...will Dad be happy again soon?”

Eli didn’t have an answer straight away. He swallowed softly, as he turned his eyes towards Dorian against, who was clutching the tombstone, not even bothering to disguise his grief.

“...I sure hope so, Cadence.”

Dorian tears kept falling on the roses, as all the memories of Melody he’d been trying to push back and keep at bay for weeks rushed towards his heart like an unstoppable wave. He kept asking, why, why, why did Melody have to die? Why couldn’t he save her? Why couldn’t he have her again? He kept trying to find answers… but none had come.

He was still alone. Still without Melody. Feeling like his heart was stolen from him by a cruel fate, a sick joke.

He tried to compose himself, and started to wipe away the tears from his face, clearing his throat and standing up straight.

“I swear, Melody… I will find a way. I will find it. And we’ll be a happy family again.”

He could’ve sworn a familiar chord echo through the wind right then and there, almost coming from beneath the ground itself. He shook his head, and it was gone. Probably just his imagination, his sleep-deprived grief making him a little loopy lately.

“Dad… will you be okay?” He heard Cadence soft voice ask from behind his back.

Dorian turned to face her, and did his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Cadence… I haven’t lost hope.”

Cadence didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but she just happy his dad could still smile and hope.

She figured, the worst of all this, it was all in the past.


	5. Retuned

**“Awaken!”**

Dorian gasped for air, as he felt the voice awaken him from a deep, silent darkness. He spent several minutes just filling his lungs back up, eyes slowly adjusting to the light levels, and eventually he regained his senses.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that he felt heavy, constricted, uncomfortable. He looked down at himself, and realised that his adventuring clothes and equipment had been replaced by some very strange armor that looked very clumsily crafted, and it would be a size too small had he been wearing anything underneath. Instead, the wood and brass that covered him dug into his skin, not sharp enough to cut, but enough to cause mild suffering.

“Hah hah hah hah… I hope you enjoyed your rest… it’ll be the last you’ll have in a very, very long time…” That same voice announced. Dorian recognised it, and looked up to face his enemy-

The tall, imposing, robed figure holding the lute, his beady red eyes and sharp-toothed grin expressing malice and satisfaction in the ugliest possible way. And holding in his hands-

“The Lute!” Dorian shouted, and quickly rose to his feet to lunge at him-

**“Cease!”**

He played a powerful, booming chord as he exclaimed, and Dorian felt every bone and muscle in his body stiffen and harden, making him stand in place, ready to jump at him, but not obeying his will. Dorian kept trying to struggle against the spell, like breaking an invisible wall made of air and wind… but he just couldn’t do it.

Eventually, he just gave up, wanting to collapse… but once again, his body would not respond. So he stood there, feeling terribly helpless.

“Ah ah ah, it’s no use. You’re under my control now.” The bard was relishing every moment of this, taking the time to plunk strings and make dramatic arpeggios, and Dorian could do nothing but frown at him.

“The lute… but… but how… I don’t understand…” Dorian protested, desperately trying to recall Melody’s stories and anecdotes, but he didn’t remember anything about the lute being able to do this.

“Of course you don’t. Nobody ever really understands, so the burden falls on my shoulders…” The bard rambled, letting the song dictate the flow of his words. “But you see, my little puppet, the Lute is capable of so much, so many powers that nobody was aware of. With this, I control life and death, bending hearts to my will.”

The bard approached, creating deeper, sinister tones. “And I must admit, you did a most valiant and brave effort to steal what’s mine. Very very few, in so many years, have even lived long enough to witness my stage.” The bard looked deep into Dorian’s eyes. The latter was tempted to look away… there was no soul, no heart in those deep red orbs, looking so unnatural.

“But unlucky for you, you did not survive. You did a most foolish death, trying to take what wasn’t yours.” The bard proclaimed with a grin, enjoying every twist of emotion in the recently-deceased man’s face.

“What… I died…? No, that can’t be… no, you’re bluffing! You’re toying with me!” Dorian shouted, his blood starting to boil, wanting to take the lute from his hands and bury him in the deepest hole he could find. “I’m not dead, and you’re nothing but a spineless coward!” His anger was starting to cloud his mind, seeing his objective so tantalisingly close and yet still so impossible to get his hands on…

“ **I am no coward!** ” The bard bellowed, and a fiercely sharp chord rung through the room, shaking the foundations of the nearby stage. “I command every soul here, every heart resonantes to my music. I have the most powerful minions of the underworld at my beck and call, ready to destroy anyone daring to kill me!”

And suddenly his voice got a lot softer, the creeping words sending a word down Dorian’s spine. “And yet you got this far… I think… you’d make an excellent minion. Strong, mighty, fierce… I can admire a useful creature when I encounter one.” His toothy grin was unnerving Dorian, who at this point was starting to feel weak-willed, his knees shaking as much as they could, still trapped by the spell.

“Don’t fear, this isn’t quite the end. I have many plans in store for you. You’ll serve and protect me forever now.” The bard announced, standing up straight and taking a commanding pose, ready to play. “But first, I must crush any scrap left of your living self. And then… you’ll be mine.” One last grin flashed across his face, before settling on a stern frown. Dorian felt the spell being lifted, able to move again. Wasting no time, he lunged at-

**“Retune!”**

Dorian collapsed to the ground as a chilling melody filled the air are wormed itself through his ears. He felt as though he was having the worst headache in his life, feeling his brain pulsate and writhe with pain inside his skull. He was starting to feel as if _something_ was invading his head, _something_ was inflicting pain and agony and anguish.

He fell on his side, both his hands desperately clutching his head, fingernails digging into his skin, as if trying to dig it out through his head. He grunted and moaned in pain as the melody continue, the sound pouring in from his ears, and starting to reshape and mold his mind.

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts get it out get it out get it out get it out…_

The bard watched with a frozen frown, his fingers plucking the evil melody, doing his bidding with no remorse or hesitation

_I have to hold on, have to resist, have to keep going… they’re waiting for me, my family… Cadence and Melody and Eli… I have to…  have to…_

Dorian tried to focus on them, on his family, trying to keep them in mind, but with every note it was all becoming distorted, colors fading, shapes twisting, everything was becoming drowned out by that music, just that music…

_Cadence, Melody… and… and… why can’t I remember his name? It was Cadence, and Melo… Me… Cadence and… why can’t I recall?!? It’s my family, I have to remember! Cadence and… my wife… and… I… I… I don’t… remember…_

The pain in his head was starting to become overwhelming… Dorian kept digging his nails into his head, but now they were stained red with oozing blood, as he kept beating his head against the cold stone floor, trying to shake out the music and get his head straight again. But it was futile.

_My family, Cadence, I have to save them… I have to save… my daughter… she’s… she’s… I… don’t remember… I… don’t know…_

Through the increasing pain, Dorian focused as hard as he could to salvage whatever was left of his mind, picturing Cadence as clearly as he could, as the loud shadows creeped in, trying to wipe and cover everything that they could find within him.

_I… I have to remember… remember her… I have to help her, save her… I have to… but why… why… why? Who… is she? Who… do I know her…? Is she… important…?_

As the darkness deafened everything in his mind, his body was lifted, blood dripping down his face as his hands were magically torn away from his head. The song was almost over.

_Remember… remember… remember her!_

And that was his last thought as the darkness took over, as his mind went blank, sealed with the sound of a tolling bell, surrounding him.


	6. Aria Arisen

I thought the last thing I would ever hear, was the maniacal laughter of the man who betrayed my compassion, as he plunged my own dagger deep into my heart.

But I was wrong.

I heard nothing but the silence of death.

And then, from beyond life, I heard the beat of a song. Powerful, intense, vivid, empowering. And my heart beat back to life once again.

As the music softly woke me from death's embrace, the first thing I felt was an agonising sensation in my heart, as I gasped for breath. This burning, tearing feeling, pulsing pain through my arteries with every beat of the music. My instinct told me to clutch it in an attempt to contain the pain, but as soon as I tried, I found myself constricted.

I opened my eyes. Nothing but pitch darkness. I couldn't see anything, I could barely tell where the music was coming from. As the painful throbbing continued, I tried to scramble back to my feet, but every limb kept hitting a wall. Trying to contain the panic, I moved around as much as I could, but it didn't take me too look to realise where I was.

A coffin.

And that's when the memories came back. I had returned for Octavian, to give him a second chance, an opportunity to redeem himself, to put an end of this musical curse. I trusted him, I handed the lute over to him... what a fool I was.

I remembered him grabbing the lute, and his face contorting into a twisted mess of greedy bloodlust. He took my arm and raised me, his magical grasp on the lute already performing a haunting melody. He grinned with satisfaction, then took the dagger from my holster... I tried to make a move, but I was still in shock. I saw how he thrust the knife into my chest, and letting out a hellish scream of pure anguish. The world turned black, and could only vaguely recalled being tossed someplace, his music closing out the darkness.

And now, I was still feeling that pain in me, again, again, again, again. I didn't dare question why I was alive. Only that I had to make him pay for his greed.

I knocked on the wall above me. It felt like just a stone slab, nothing above it. I tried to lift it, but it felt too heavy. As soon as I did, my heart flared up again, and I contorted and hissed in response, but there was barely any room inside here. With every beat, one thought prevailed: "Get-out, get-out, get-out, get-out..." And perfectly timed to the music, I kept hitting the slab, again and again, with every impact, it budged just a bit more.

My heart felt like it was on fire, my limbs were frail, and my mind was racing with questions. But none of that mattered. With every note of the increasingly louder music, I slammed my fists against the slab, letting out yelps and spasms with every attempt. I felt my clothes start to soak in flowing blood, but I didn't care. Breaking out was my sole concern.

As the song grew nearer, and faster, I felt a surge of energy go through me, and felt strong enough to use my legs to help kick the slab away. With all of my strength directed at the slab, I slammed again. I pushed, I kicked, I forced.

And with a final, mighty lunge, the slab finally fell aside, letting the dim light of the crypt pour in. I had no idea where I was, only that it was deep underground and only faintly lit by torches. I took a second to rest my body, still recovering from my reawakening, still trying to get used to the pain... I wasn't sure if I had the strength to get up.

"Stop! Get-get away from me!"

That voice. Octavian. He was here.

I heard footsteps approaching my coffin, and a second later, I caugth a glimpse of his ugly face by the edge of the coffin.

I no longer felt any of the pain.

Only burning, consuming, blinding rage.

I made no effort to stop my hand from reaching out and grabbing him by his collar, and pulling with newfound vitality. "What...?" I heard him explain, looking confused and frightened. And as I pulled him closer, I sat up in my resting place, and yanked him to me, until our faces were almost touching.

I had no idea what my face looked like. Only that, in that moment, as I gave him a piercing gaze deep into his eyes, for once in his sorry life, Octavian was terrified, powerless, and completely at the mercy of someone he betrayed. Silent, and scrambling for words, I could feel his cold heart beating to the music, which was now echoing through the entire chamber.

I shoved him back, and he stumbled trying to regain his balance as I practically leapt out, and landed on my two feet in front of him. He barely had time to react before I shoved my hand into his chest as hard as I could, teeth gritted behind my tight lips, just a hair away from seething at him with pure hatred.

I watched him fall down the pit with no remorse. I heard his yells vanish into the darkness, and his bone and flesh crash against stone as he fell deeper and deeper, until he was heard never more.

Finally, he was gone.

It was only then that I finally took a moment to examine myself. I looked down at my still aching heart, and could only stare at the sight of my dagger, covered in blood, firmly stuck to my chest, as I could almost feel the walls of my heart slide against the cold metal. And somehow... it was still beating, refusing to die.

It was impossible. It was unbelievable. It wasn't supposed to happen.

But not even that could prepare me for what came next.

"Mother?"

No... it couldn't be... it was... so familiar, yet different...

"Is that you?"

I finally dared to raise my gaze.

A fully grown woman. Mature complexion, deeper voiced, battered clothing, yet unmistakably... my sweet, dear Melody.

And in her hands, playing a melancholic tune... the Golden Lute.

So many years had passed... but I knew what had to be done.

It was time to set right what I once had done wrong.


End file.
